


Nice, Not Accurate

by Shampain



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crowley's Bentley (Good Omens), M/M, Public Hand Jobs, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 14:23:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19929520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shampain/pseuds/Shampain
Summary: The Wall Slam(tm) scene, only outside. By the Bentley. With Aziraphale undoing Crowley's belt.





	Nice, Not Accurate

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse, and have no need, to explain myself.

“I am _not_ nice.”

The sun had just begun to set. At the edge of the gravel lot, where Crowley had parked the Bentley, they could just hear the sounds of the police rounding up the hapless members of the training initiative. All alive, of course, thanks to Crowley’s intervention (though, it _was_ his intervention that put them into danger in the first place).

Aziraphale had his back to the manor and, also, his back to the Bentley. The sun-warmed metal of the exterior seeped through the back of his coat as Crowley pressed him close against the car, snarling face just inches away from his. He was stressed, angry, frustrated; Aziraphale could see it dancing across his face, even with the sunglasses on. His hands itched to take them off, to get a better read of the demon’s eyes.

Instead, surprising even himself, he reached down and began to undo Crowley’s belt.

The demon’s body went rigid immediately, but he didn’t pull away, so Aziraphale took that as a sign to keep going. He nudged Crowley’s hips back a fraction of an inch so that he had room to slip his hand into the demon’s trousers, fingertips trailing over the coarse hair that led down to his cock.

“Angel,” Crowley breathed against his cheek. Warningly? Pleadingly?

Aziraphale felt the small thrill that always came when he had Crowley like this - there was something undeniably pleasing about the fact he could affect Crowley this way, so quickly and neatly. The fact he had decided to do so in, well, not in _broad_ daylight, but certainly in the fading dusk, and in a somewhat public place, added an extra dimension to it.

“You tell me if anyone is coming,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around Crowley’s cock, feeling it already growing firm against his palm. Crowley, after all, was the one facing the manor. From afar, they would simply look like they were embracing - hopefully.

Crowley pressed his upper body closer to Aziraphale’s, pinning him firmly against the Bentley. It was not the best position or circumstance but they made do, Crowley hissing in a mix of arousal and discomfort as Aziraphale worked his hand over his cock without lubrication. Aziraphale pressed his face into Crowley’s hair, inhaling the scent of argan oil and oranges.

Crowley planted both hands against the Bentley - practically a sin - and rutted into Aziraphale’s hand, producing noises that Aziraphale felt as much as heard with the demon’s face buried in the crook of his neck.

He was not surprised when he felt teeth. Crowley was a biter.

“Easy,” Aziraphale breathed. Crowley could pierce fabric when he wasn’t careful, let alone flesh (but flesh could heal; Aziraphale could not undo a tear or a rip). He smoothed his free hand over the back of the demon’s neck, gently scratching at the skin before creeping up into his hair.

Crowley jerked his hips, his voice needy and his words unintelligible, and Aziraphale shivered. Perhaps he should have waited until they got into the car… until they were on a dark and lonely road… he thought of the things Crowley could do with his tongue, when he was so inclined, and groaned.

“Fuck,” he hissed into Aziraphale’s ear, as the angel teased at the slit of his cock, beginning to spread the pre-come down his shaft. He shuddered, leaning into Aziraphale, and the angel shifted, angling his elbow a bit so he could more firmly stroke Crowley.

“Language,” Aziraphale chided, and Crowley choked on a laugh.

“I want to fuck you,” Crowley gasped, teething at the curve of Aziraphale’s ear, making him shiver, his words causing a coil to tighten in his stomach. “Or you can fuck me. Whatever… whatever you want… _aaahhhhn_ …” 

“Later,” Aziraphale promised.

It didn’t take long after that. Crowley came with a noise that resonated low in Aziraphale’s belly, covering his fingers in a sticky heat as he slumped against the angel. _He’s_ very _nice now_ , Aziraphale thought, as Crowley turned his head and kissed him, long and needy, tongue sliding against the roof of Aziraphale’s mouth in a way that made him tremble. But then again, Crowley always was, at least with Aziraphale. Despite his protests otherwise.

Aziraphale took out a handkerchief to clean his hand. Flushed and glowing, Crowley did up his zipper and belt, fumbling a bit. “Are you alright to drive?” Aziraphale asked, politely.

“Shut it,” Crowley grumbled, lurching away from him to get into the driver’s seat. But once they were inside the Bentley the demon leaned over and kissed him again, with real sweetness, reaching up to trail his fingertips over the side of Aziraphale’s cheek.

Once they got back to London, he decided, settling back into his seat, he would invite Crowley in. 

(But, unfortunately, that was before he found the book.)


End file.
